Dean Winchester and the Bunny Slippers
by sweetondean
Summary: It's been a quiet week. Sam and Dean are in the bunker and Dean's bored. Sam suggests that Dean go sort out the storeroom and catalogue what objects are in there... Here begins the adventure of Dean and his bunny slippers.


_This story actually came about because of a conversation on twitter that started with a photo of a bunny wearing bunny slippers and like most things in my life, somehow made its way around to Dean. It was also about 2am…so I blame sleep deprivation and cute bunny photos and of course Dean Winchester for what follows!_

* * *

"Stop laughing, Sam"

"I'm sorry, Dean but…" Sam dissolved into laughter again.

"Just. Just figure out a way to get them off."

Sam wiped the tears from his eyes and cleared his throat, "I'm looking Dean, but…well…that will teach you to be more careful when you're poking around the storeroom." Sam was trying desperately to contain a giggle.

"Yeah, thanks for your support. There were no warnings or sigils on the box, I just thought…"

"That's where the Men of Letters kept their bunny slippers?"

...

**12 Hours Earlier**

Sam and Dean were in the bunker. It'd been a quiet week. Even with all the angel and demon wars going on, things had been disturbingly peaceful.

Sam had been continuing his study of the mountain of files in the Men of Letters archives and Dean was doing his best to annoy him.

Dean tossed the book he was reading onto the table. "Let's go out. Play some pool. Maybe catch a movie? We could see the new Hobbit movie. You like that stuff."

"Dean" Sam sighed. "I'm kind of busy. But if you want to go to the movies, go for it."

Dean slumped in his chair. "Yeah, me and all my friends at the movies…" He tossed his feet up on to the table in a huff.

"Stop. Stop twitching your feet." Sam looked at his brother, "And stop pouting. If you want something to do, go catalogue the boxes in the storeroom. Figure out what we have in there. Who knows, could be something useful."

"I'm not pouting, I'm..." Dean flung his feet onto the ground with a thud. "I'm bored. I want to work. It's too quiet. It's making me nervous."

"Well, if you want to work…go…"

"Go catalogue the boxes…yeah, yeah…thrilling." Dean stomped out of the room like a 6 foot five year old.

Sam shook his head and went back to his work.

...

**NOW**

"There's got to be something in the files. I mean they were in the storeroom with all the other objects, so there must be a record somewhere."

"Which is exactly why you shouldn't have put them on your feet. What were you thinking, Dean?"

"I was thinking…I don't know, I was thinking… I wasn't thinking all right. I thought it would be funny. Come in here, make you laugh."

"Oh it is funny." Sam burst out laughing again.

Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Yes. It's freakin' hilarious. Just…"

Sam bit his lip. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry…I'll keep looking, just you…go bwush your teef and put on your jammies and I'll come tuck you in soon, okay."

"Sam. I swear…"

...

**8 Hours Earlier**

Dean coughed over dramatically as he hand waved away the dust floating around his head. "Would it have killed them to label things? I mean, come on." He said to no one.

He was surrounded by boxes. He'd convinced himself he had a method. Stuff he knew what it was over there, stuff he didn't dare open, over here, other stuff he didn't know what to do with, left on the shelf. Essentially, he was making a mess.

He carefully opened a small wooden box. No sigils. Must be safe. Inside was a tiny beetle.

"Ewww" Dean said, "Bug." He sniffed it. It moved. He jumped. "What the hell!" He quickly closed the box and put it back on the shelf. "Weird."

He opened another box. It contained a Ruger revolver. "Nice!" Dean took it out and spun it around his fingers before pointing at the wall and making shooting sounds. He looked around guiltily and smiled. Laughing to himself, he put it back in the box and placed it in the stuff he knew what it was pile.

Dean walked over to another shelf. He pushed a few boxes aside looking for something interesting. At the back of the shelf was a shoebox. He reached in and pulled it out. It was covered in dirt and grime. He dusted off the lid, wiping his now very grubby hands on his jeans. No sigils, just an ordinary shoebox with the brand _Allen's _printed across it in elegant writing.

Dean carefully lifted the box lid and peered inside. He screwed up his face. Reaching in he pulled out a pair of bright pink bunny slippers.

He put the box down and turned the slippers over in his hands checking them out. They were pink and fluffy, with long white ears, a pink nose, tiny black beads for eyes and whiskers.

Dean looked at the box again. It was a regular shoebox. There were no notes, no markings, nothing. Just a shoebox. _Allen's_ bunny slippers, size 11.

Dean suddenly had an idea. He pushed his boots off with his heels and slipped his socked feet into the bunny slippers. They were soft and warm. He wiggled his toes around inside. They were comfortable and fitted perfectly. He looked at his feet and smirked before padding out of the room.

...

Dean sat down and tossed his feet up on the table, crossing them at the ankle. He looked over at Sam, waiting for him to look up. Sam was ignoring Dean with an intensity that only Sam can muster. Dean cleared his throat. Sam stayed eyes down.

Dean pushed his chair back and swung his feet around planting them right on the book that Sam was reading. Sam took a deep sigh and looked at the feet now under his nose. Dean wiggled them, making the bunny ears go up and down. Sam couldn't help but laugh.

"Nice footwear, Dean. They suit you."

"I thought so. They're pretty comfy too." Dean wiggled his feet again.

"Where did you get them?"

"They were in a box in the storeroom."

Sam looked up. "What? And you put them on? Dean…"

"Don't get your panties in a bunch, Sam. I checked the box out, there were no warnings, no sigils, nothing written on it at all. Just a pair of bunny slippers inside an ordinary, everyday shoebox."

"Still, Dean…"

"You're just jealous because you don't have a pair." Dean said, admiring his fluffy clad feet.

"Yeah…because I really want a pair of bunny slippers."

"You love them."

Sam laughed.

...

**NOW**

Dean walked up and down the room, making a soft "thrump thrump thrump" noise with every footfall.

"Dean, stop pacing."

"Sam, I want these things off my feet."

"I thought you said they were comfy." Sam smirked.

"Sam." Dean turned and shot a death stare at his brother.

Sam grinned back at him. He knew he was pushing it, but he couldn't help himself. Seeing his big brother padding around the bunker wearing bunny slippers was too much fun. He suddenly had an idea.

"Stand still" Sam said, getting out his phone.

"Why. Wait, what are you doing?"

"I'm just going to get a photo of them so I can refer back to them if I find anything."

Dean looked at his brother sideways. "You can look at them fine on my feet."

"What if you're not here?"

"Where the hell am I going to go? I'm wearing freakin' bunny slippers!"

Sam burst out laughing. "I don't know. You might go crash out or something. Stop being a baby and let me get a photo of them. It'll be good for our records anyway."

Dean looked at his brother through squinted eyes.

"Just the slippers."

"Yeah, just the slippers."

"Sam… Just. The. Slippers."

"Dean."

Dean huffed and stood still as Sam took a photo with his phone.

...

**6 hours earlier**

Dean yawned. He'd been poking around the storeroom for hours. He'd gone through most of the boxes. Sorted them onto shelves in priority of danger. Written notes on the outside of the boxes that had no mention of what was in them. Made a list of what was in each box, with a description of the box and the item inside. He felt like he'd accomplished a lot. He stretched his arms in the air, wincing as his back cracked. It was time for bed.

Dean bent down and picked up his boots. He was still wearing his bunny slippers. He padded back down the hall to where Sam continued to have his nose in a book.

"I'm going to bed. You should too."

"Yeah, I'm just going to finish this." Sam said, looking up. His eyes dropped to Dean's feet. "You still got those slippers on?"

"They're comfy!" Dean said, wiggling his toes and smiling as the bunny ears wiggled too.

Sam shook his head. "Night, Dean."

"Night, Sam" Dean said as he turned and padded out of the room.

...

Dean tossed his boots on the floor of his bedroom and sat on the end of his bed.

He looked at his bunny-clad feet and smiled, before reaching down to take the slippers off.

He pulled on the right one first. It didn't move. I wave of panic instantly shot through him. He pulled on the left one. It didn't move either. He grabbed the ears and yanked. Nothing. He took a knife off the wall and tried to slice the material, but it wouldn't cut. He grabbed the ears again and pulled with all his might, groaning under the strain. But the slippers wouldn't move. Dean fell back on his bed and moaned, a hand dropping over his face.

"Idiot" he said through gritted teeth.

He sat up again and glared at his feet. He took a deep breath, stood up and scuffed out of the room.

...

"I thought you were going to bed," Sam said as he looked up and saw his brother stalk into the room.

"We have a problem" Dean said, not being able to meet Sam's eyes.

Sam frowned. "What?"

Dean looked down at his feet.

Sam followed Dean's gaze. "What? What about them?"

Dean shuffled. "Um. They, err… They won't come off."

Sam just stared at Dean.

"I tried pulling on them, I tired cutting them, nothing. They're stuck."

"Dean" Sam said, "What did I say?"

"You said I shouldn't have put them on, after I put them on, so…"

Sam looked at his brother's feet, then at his face, then back at his feet.

...

It took about five minutes for Sam to stop laughing.

Dean patiently stood there and allowed his brother his moment. He deserved it. He was an idiot. He should have known better. "You finished?" Dean said as Sam's laughter started to die down.

"I'm sorry Dean, but…" He started laughing again.

Dean sighed and walked over to the table, throwing himself into a chair. "Shut up and help me find a way to get them off."

"Yeah, sorry, sorry. Okay, what have you tried?"

"I've tried pulling them off my feet. I've tried cutting them with a knife. Nothing."

Sam pulled the demon knife out of his belt and walked over to Dean.

"They're not demon slippers, Sam."

"Well they're obviously cursed. I was just going to see if I could cut them."

"I told you…oh go ahead." Dean said, defeated.

Sam got a hold of one of the ears and tried to cut. Nothing. "Wait here" he said, as he rushed from the room.

"Where am I going to go?" Dean mumbled as he glared at the slippers.

Sam returned with scissors and a lighter.

"Wait. You can't set them on fire, my feet are in them!" Dean hurriedly pulled his feet off the table and put them under his chair.

"Dean, I'm not going to set your feet on fire, I just want to see if the slippers burn."

Dean grumbled and put his feet back on the table.

Sam took the lighter and put it against one of the ears. Nothing. It didn't even scorch.

"Huh." Sam said. Then he got the scissors and grabbed one of the ears. The scissors broke in half, one piece flying across the room and landing with a clatter.

The brothers looked at each other.

"Um. Okay…" Sam started as he headed back to his chair. "Well they were in the storeroom with all the other objects… I can't believe you put them on Dean, I mean…"

"Sam. I know all right, I know. Idiot. Already established. Let's… just, I want them off my feet!"

Sam looked at Dean. "Okay, if they were in the storeroom, there must be an entry on them somewhere. Go get me the box, I'm going to see what I can find."

Dean pushed his chair back noisily, got up and padded out of the room.

Sam started laughing again.

...

**NOW**

"Wait. I think I've found something."

Dean rushed over to his brother and grabbed the book off him. "What?"

Sam grabbed the book back. "Here, look…there's an entry on _Allen's_ shoe store."

Dean pulled a chair up beside Sam as Sam read the entry out loud.

"_Allen's_. A front for a family of Gypsies who made their living by offering curses to those slighted. The curses could be in the form of objects or written words. Cursed objects sometimes took the shape of shoes as the family ran a shoe store. Example: Cursed bunny slippers – circa 1952."

"Gypsies? Great." Dean said. "Does it say how to get them off?"

Sam continued, "The curses could be lifted by saying a simple spell and oft times were simply used as practical jokes as opposed to maliciously."

"Comedy Gypsies? Even better." Dean hung his head. "Does say what the spell is?"

Sam looked at the spell. "Um. Let me see. Hmm. Um. I'm not sure…"

"Sam."

Sam laughed. "Yeah, it's got the spell, Dean." Let's get those slippers off and get them back in the storeroom where they belong."

...

Dean woke up, tossed his covers off and looked at his feet. They were just feet. He breathed a sigh of relief. No more bunny slippers.

He got up, showered, dressed and headed to the kitchen for some coffee.

He opened up the fridge to get the milk and froze. Stuck to the milk bottle was the photo of Dean in bunny slippers. He ripped the photo off, screwed it up and tossed it in the bin.

"Hilarious" he mumbled to himself.

He opened the cupboard and pulled out the box of cereal, setting it down on the table. On the back of the box, there was the photo of Dean in bunny slippers.

Dean closed his eyes and bellowed, "SAM!" He stomped out of the kitchen and down the hall. "Sam!"

Dean went into the bunker library. There were bunny slippers photos everywhere. On the table, stuck to the walls, stuck to the back of chairs. Dean stormed around, ripping them all down.

"SAMMMMMMM!"

Sam came into the room, yawning. "Morning, Dean. Everything okay?"

"Very funny wise guy. I thought you said you were only taking a photo of my feet. For reference." Dean glared at his brother.

"Well…" Sam burst out laughing. "Sorry, couldn't resist."

"Are you done?"

"Yeah, I'm done."

Dean rolled his eyes. "I swear, if I ever see that photo again… I'm going to go into town and grab us some breakfast."

Sam nodded. "Mm. Okay"

He watched as his brother walked up the stairs and out the bunker door. He waited…

Even through the door Sam heard the scream. Maybe he went too far papering the Impala with the photo. Nah. He sat down, flipped open his laptop and grinned at his new wallpaper. Dean was going to kill him, he knew it, he was in for a world of hurt, but it was so going to be worth it.

Sam smiled to himself as hit send on the email to Charlie.

...

**_The End_**


End file.
